


Known

by gray_eyes



Category: Legacies (TV 2018), Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Shadow World Setting (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Crossover, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_eyes/pseuds/gray_eyes
Summary: Freya Mikaelson reroutes her life for her niece. Now in New York City, she might have the guts to put herself first, for once.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Keelin Malraux/Freya Mikaelson, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Milton "MG" Greasley/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> This became an enjoyable procrastination dump of all of my favorite queer (or secretly queer) characters. The story centers around Freya though, and the other relationships are in the background. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya and Hope visit Pandemonium.

Freya Mikaelson is tired. She feels as though she woke up from a deep slumber. New Orleans is a vibrant city, but a sleepy one, in comparison to New York at least. She plops down on her new couch in her newly furnished Upper West Side apartment and leans back, closing her eyes.

“Nap time already?” A chipper voice wafts over. Freya deigns not to react. “Feeling your age?” The brat chuckles.

Freya’s mouth quirks up before straightening again. The little shit.

“And to think I was planning on taking you along tonight,” Freya murmurs as she feels the couch cushions shift. She blinks her eyes open to stare back at her pouting niece. Hope had large, light blue puppy eyes, and she knew it. The years had crept up on Freya, and those eyes, for so long so childlike, are now framed with thick liner. 

Hope pokes her side. “Hey, I helped enough,” she whines. Hope was a whiner, although most Mikaelsons were broody, so Freya isn’t too bothered. Freya imagines she wouldn’t be too thrilled at the prospect of a chaperone either.

Freya had spent the last century or so doing what she always does: protecting her family. It’s rare that a warlock be so affiliated with a coven, but Freya was never one for tradition. She’d covered for her warlock brothers when they were turned into vampires. She nursed them through the transition and, after years of research, developed a way for them to combat the sun. Freya’s only recently converted them to blood bags, although Klaus occasionally slips. He’s slipped less since he met Hayley, a Shadowhunter-turned-vampire, who birthed their daughter, Hope, a new mix of warlock, vampire, and Shadowhunter blood. 

Hope’s untimely arrival as the newest Mikaelson meant that Freya could no longer watch over New Orleans as its High Warlock. She bequeathed the responsibility to Vincent, and she became Hope’s primary teacher. Family first, always and forever.

Freya almost closes her eyes again, but before Hope can open her mouth, she says breezily, “Maybe if you order dinner, I’ll bring you along.” Hope jumps up and heads towards the dining table.

Freya knows better than to give any preferences. Hope’s magic is wild and young. She’s a strong warlock, and Freya taught her how to protect herself, but….Freya hears the clattering of plates land on the dining room table.

She sighs and slowly gets off the couch. Hope overdid it like she always does: Freya counts ten main courses and ten sides from an Indian restaurant a couple blocks away. She grins. “Let’s eat, kiddo.”

Hope rolls her eyes as they both sit down. Freya summons silverware from the kitchen and helps herself to Saag Paneer.

“So….you excited for training?” Freya asks before she chews a cube of spinach-covered cheese.

Hope nods emphatically as she stuffs her mouth with garlic naan. “I can’t wait,” she chomps.

Freya smiles before taking another bite. Klaus and Hayley always sheltered Hope from the Clave and were deeply opposed to revealing Hope’s status as a Nephilim. Hayley had all but turned her back on her kind after their reaction to her turning. But Freya had been worn down. She knew Hope should live beyond the French Quarter. They eventually all compromised: once Hope was an adult, she could train as a Shadowhunter, but only at the New York Institute, and only if Freya went with her. Freya wasn’t so out of touch with the warlock community to know that one of their own had shacked up with a Shadowhunter. Freya convinced a reluctant Hayley that if times were changing, so should they.

They chat about what they would do now that they were settled in New York. Hope wants to see all of the museums, and Freya promises to take her when Hope is off duty.

“What are you gonna do when I’m at the Institute?” Hope asks, pushing away her plate.

Freya frowns. She doesn’t really know. Her life wasn’t filled with much planning, just reacting to the latest crisis. “Let’s see what the High Warlock says first. Speaking of which,” she looks at her watch,” it’s time to get ready.”

If someone were visiting Freya when she was High Warlock of New Orleans, they wouldn’t have had to dress up to see her. But New York was different. This wasn’t her territory, and the High Warlock had texted her the address of a night club. Fortunately, Hope was old enough to get in, although they could have snuck her in if they had to.

She settles for a simple, yet club-appropriate look. Her neck is accentuated by a black ribbon choker, and her short blonde hair is wavy and pulled back on one side. She wears a green tank top, and her lacy red bra peaks out at the straps and in the opening in the back. She settles on black jeans and black combat boots. She runs warm and will summon a jacket if she has to.

“Can I borrow a necklace?” Hope calls out as she enters Freya’s bedroom. Freya tries to hide a smirk. She thinks the kid’s overdone it a bit. She’s wearing a very tight and very short black dress, with impractically high heels. It’s clearly her first night out.

“Sure,” Freya says as she tosses one of her chokers to her niece, whose vampire reflexes kick in to catch it in her non-dominant hand. After Freya persuades Hope to switch to heeled ankle boots, the two women, who look almost the same age, leave the apartment and hail a cab. Freya hasn’t been to this city in so long, she isn’t certain she’d portal in the correct place. Back then, Google Maps hadn’t existed.

A large red sign with all capitals - PANDEMONIUM - signals the club’s entrance. There’s a long line of people waiting. Freya senses that while many in line are Downworlders, some are also mundanes. 

She doesn’t want to draw attention to them, to Hope really, but she also doesn’t want to be late for her meeting. She sighs as she looks at the line. They’re not going to like this.

“Stay behind me,” she murmurs to Hope. For once, Hope doesn’t retort. Freya casually walks up to a guard, whom she suspects is a vampire.

“Hi,” she says awkwardly. “We have an appointment with the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I’m Freya Mikaelson.”

The man, short in stature but poised with power, merely tilts his head in the direction of the door. They quickly rush in as Freya hears groans from the line.

Loud, bass-thumping music assaults her ears, and Freya quickly casts a dampening spell around her ears and on Hope’s. She takes her hand and leads them through the glistening bodies and the strobe lights and to a bar tucked away in the corner. She leads Hope to an empty seat.

“I have to talk to the High Warlock alone, first,” she says bluntly and then winces. A thousand years and she’s never had much tact. “Are you okay here by yourself?”

Hope waves her off, already looking at a drink list. Freya rolls her eyes. Teenagers.

“Text me if you move, and let’s check in in an hour no matter what, okay?” Freya says a little louder.

Hope drags her eyes from the blackboard and looks at Freya. “Yes, mom,” she yells back.

Freya focuses on the magical signatures in the club. The walls are warded, with additional wards around a small room in the back. She senses someone’s magic stronger than others in this club. Other than hers, that is.

She knocks on the door. It’s too loud to hear a response, so she counts to three and opens the door.

When you live as long as a warlock does, you don’t care about decorum and you have the time and the power to build wealth. The High Warlock oozes power and is dressed to impress. His crimson shirt dips towards his navel and glistens under the light. Several necklaces frame his neck. His pants match Freya’s.

She smiles as shuts the door, feels the wards shift, and turns back around with her hand outstretched. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’m Freya.”

A ringed hand clasps hers. “Magnus Bane, at your service, although I can’t possibly see what I can offer you, Miss Mikaelson.” He releases her hand and gestures towards a velvet sofa. “Let’s have a seat.”

Freya settles onto the couch and then crosses her legs. She stares at Magnus’ eyes, feeling oddly comforted by the sparkly gold eyeliner on his face. If a Shadowhunter fell for this man, maybe the world wasn’t as cruel as her family always believed.

“I was wondering if I could….work here. In New York, that is. I plan on staying for a while.”

Magnus’s eyebrows shot up. Freya holds out her hands. “I’m not running for High Warlock or anything. I was just wondering whether I could be…useful, while I’m here.”

Magnus smiles. His eyes crinkle. Her shoulders soften. “I think that can be arranged. There are more than enough clients to send your way, my dear.” He leans forward, inching towards her. “A little birdy told me something about your involvement in creating daylighters. Do you know anything about that?”

She shrugs. “I’d be willing to help out. For a fee.” That cure didn’t come cheap.

Magnus hums. “Well, well, this should be very interesting. It’s been a while since New York has had any fresh blood. I’m sure people will be almost as excited by your arrival as they were when my wedding was announced.”

“Congrats, by the way.” Freya picks the skin around her nails. “Speaking of which…I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”

“Oh?” Magnus blinks.

“Could you pass along an introduction for me to the Head of the New York Institute? I’d like to set up a meeting with him. I have some family business to attend to.”

Magnus must know better than to inquire further, for he waves his right hand, sending a fire message. Freya rarely uses them, much preferring texting, but she supposes they have a certain flair.

Warlocks, like the Mikaelsons, rarely did anything pro bono. Freya knew better than to leave. Magnus stares at her for a moment as he fiddles with an earring. “In return, “ Magnus says tentatively, “perhaps you could use an…apprentice?”

It’s Freya’s turn for her eyebrows to rise. “I doubt I’ll have the business. The Mikaelson name isn’t exactly…pure.”

Magnus waves his hand. “Oh please. You’re the best of the best. And I know of a young warlock who could use your tutelage. I would take her on, but I’ve taught her for years, and I think she could use a fresh take.”

“My style is…hardly fresh,” Freya sighs, “but sure. Whatever you need.” It was a small price to pay for what she needed for Hope. Maybe this warlock could be a sort of friend to Hope, even. Hope didn’t know too many people her age. She had Landon, but he was back in New Orleans, and Hope clearly wasn’t losing sleep over being separated from the werewolf.

“Wonderful!” Magnus jolts up. Freya follows his lead. He opens his arms, and Freya reluctantly falls into a warm hug. Her hands awkwardly pat his back before he releases her. “Welcome to our little community,” he smiles jovially. “I’ll send over your trainee on Monday. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Freya smiles and nods. She leaves the office and is once again assaulted by what is called music these days. She grabs her phone from her back pocket and looks at the home screen. 

No new messages. She sighs. Child wrangling was never her forte. She extends her magic over the club, sensing a familiar flare at the bar but on the other side of it. Freya slides her way through the mass of bodies to the other side. She sees Hope chatting with a girl. Freya doesn’t want to embarrass Hope, but she wants to check in on her. She moves forward just enough so she’s in Hope’s line of sight but not imposing. Fortunately, Hope doesn’t seem to think Freya’s that embarrassing, at least in comparison with the rest of the family, as she grins and waves her over.

“Josie, this is my aunt Freya. Freya, this is Josie. She’s a warlock too!” Hope’s grin widens. 

Freya holds back that she does, in fact, know they’re in the presence of another warlock. Hope’s senses haven’t developed that much yet.

“Nice to meet you, Josie,” Freya smiles softly. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I get drinks free here,” Josie winks at Hope. Freya suspects, if the lights were brighter, a blush would tint Hope’s cheeks.

“Um…sure,” Freya says as she glances at the blackboard overhanging the bar. “I’ll have a….butterbeer?”

Josie laughs. “Yeah, I introduced the boss to Harry Potter. He thought it would be funny. He doesn’t realize it’s now a Dad joke.” Josie rolls her eyes. Hope barks out a laugh.

Before Freya can reply, Josie is calling out to the bartender. Freya takes a moment to observe the stranger. She’s wearing a sunny yellow dress with long billowy sleeves. It covers her upper body completely. Freya senses a flame of magical energy, although she suspects it’s not from the girl herself but from the golden locket dangling from her neck.

A frothy brown mixture hovers in front of her face. Freya takes the mysterious beverage. “Thanks,” she takes a sip. Less sweet than she thought it would be. She takes another sip. “So what house are you in?”

Josie takes a gulp of her half-finished drink, which shifts from blue to purple. “Hufflepuff,” she says with a small smile. “How about you guys?”

“Slytherin,” Hope says smugly. “I doubt Freya’s taken the test, although I have a few theories. We all know our family bleeds green and silver.”

Freya rolls her eyes. She takes another sip. The concoction pleasantly chills her throat.

“Hope, I think I’m going to call it a night. I have a lot to set up. Can you portal home?” Hope nods. Freya smiles at the girls. “It was nice to meet you, Josie. Hope, I’ll see you soon.”

Freya slips back into the sweaty crowd and towards the exit. Alone, as usual. 


	2. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya visits the New York Institute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've drafted four chapters of this, so a lot has been written while procrastinating working on my other story! I hope you enjoy!

It’s just as she suspected. The next morning Hope’s passed out on her bed, having gotten in at god knows what hour. 

Freya decides to dress in her standard attire – a spaghetti-strapped tank with skinny jeans. A thin ribbon choker wraps around her neck for extra protection. Freya is glad that this Alec Lightwood seems to be an earlier riser, like her. That way she can scope the place out before Hope steps near it.

It’s a nice morning in New York City. She picks up a coffee from the corner shop, a bit overpriced for her taste, but they have to eat too, she supposes. She hasn’t ever been to the Institute before, so she’ll have to take the subway.

She passes the time on the train people watching. Freya’s up to date on all of the technology. She has all of the latest devices. She’s less up to date on what to do with them in her downtime. She’s never had downtime. She was always busy with the latest family crisis, and in rare moments of peace, her High Warlock duties took precedence. 

She throws away her empty iced coffee cup and walks through a park until she reaches an abandoned church. Freya knocks and lowers her arm, waiting. She senses strong wards, presumably done by High Warlock Bane. Freya could probably dismantle them, she thinks, but what would be the use of that? She doesn’t want to ruffle the proverbial angelic feathers.

The door swings open, revealing a pale, skinny blonde woman. She looks around Hope’s age, Freya guesses. Surprisingly, the blonde is wearing the same necklace as the girl from last night. Freya frowns. The girl frowns back at Freya before stepping back and waving her arm. “Follow me.”

 _Well, that was better than expected_ , Freya thinks. She has so little experience with the Nephilim, and what she has had, other than with her hybrid family members, has rarely been positive. Yet Freya follows the teenager through a brightly lit corridor.

Soon they arrive at a large wooden door. The girl yanks the doorknob, swinging the door open.

“She’s here!” The girl calls out before stomping away.

Freya walks into a spacious office, a large desk framed by a stained glass window. A pale, dark-haired man rises from his chair. He looks to be in his 30s, similar to how Freya looks. As he straightens, the man towers over Freya. A z-shaped rune adorns his neck. After he rounds his desk to stand in front of her, the man’s lip curve up and he extends a hand.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Lightwood,” Freya says as she shakes a large, calloused hand.

“Please, call me Alec, Ms. Mikaelson.” He lets go and extends his hand towards a black leather couch. “Shall we?”

“Sure, sure,” Freya says. She plops down and squeezes her hands together to keep them from fidgety. A thousand years may have passed, but once a fidgeter, always a fidgeter.

“Please call me Freya.” She says quickly.

Alec crosses his legs and maintains eye contact. “So Magnus told me you had a request…”

“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t sure what the protocol is in New York, and Warlock Bane and I have met before…” She sighs before straightening. “I was wondering whether you could train a new Shadowhunter.”

Alec’s eyebrows raise. “Really?”

Freya nods. “I don’t know much about Institutes. I previously lived in New Orleans, where, as you know, there is no Institute, but I had heard about Warlock Bane’s marriage and figured you might be…sympathetic…”

Alec glances down at his left hand before looking at Freya again. “How so?” He asks.

Freya expected the direct question, but it’s still a tough call. She just wasn’t sure how much she could trust the man in front of her. As soon as she says it, the word will be out. Hope will be left unprotected. But, she thinks, Hope is an adult now, and she’ll have her fellow Shadowhunters. And she’ll always have Freya, just around the corner.

Freya squeezes her hands together. “My niece is Nephilim. She’s also a Downworlder. I’ve been training her in New Orleans, and her parents have kept her away from prying eyes, so to speak.” Freya figures Alec may guess at how much of an understatement that is, but she hopes he’ll let it slide, for now.”

Alec smiles his small, close-lipped smile again, and Freya lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “I don’t know how much you know about the New York Institute, but we pride ourselves on tolerance and respect. Many of our Shadowhunters are members of other Shadow World communities, by blood or by choice. All who seek to train are welcome here.”

“Good, that’s good.” Freya stands from the couch and Alec follows suit. She doesn’t want to overstay her welcome. Plus she wants to text Hope. “Can she swing by today to get started?”

Alec walks around his desk, rifles through some papers, grabs a pen and jots down a note too far away for Freya to see. “Sure, sure.” He says. “Have her ask for me, and I’ll get her set up.” He drops the pen and looks back up. "Anything else?" Freya shakes her head. “I’ll walk you out, then.”

Freya opens the wooden door, invisible wards pulsing around her. 

“So, how long have you known Magnus?” Alec asks.

Freya tilts her head as she thinks. “We met a few centuries back…I honestly don’t remember. I was a High Warlock, so we had the occasional meet-up.”

“Well, Magnus speaks quite highly of you.”

It’s Freya’s turn to be surprised. “We barely know each other, really.”

Alec laughs. “Trust me on this one. I hope you stick around, Freya. New York’s a busy place. We could always use another hand, especially one like yours.”

“I’ll be here a while.” She smiles back.

Freya’s shoulders loosen as she walks down the Institute steps and into the sunny city again. She opens a portal and slides back into her living room, ready to wake Hope.

Luckily, Hope’s already in their kitchen, her red hair in a messy bun on top of her head and her pajamas still on. She’s pouring milk into a bowl of Special K for Freya. Next to it is a bowl of cereal for Hope, darkened with blood.

“I see someone wants to be at the top of her game this morning,” Freya remarks as she grabs two spoons and heads over to their dining room table. Hope didn’t need blood, unlike her parents, but it strengthened her considerably. 

“Don’t sass me, Miss Mikaelson,” Hope retorts before chomping on a spoonful of cereal. She asks as she chews, “How’d it go?”

Freya takes a large bit and chews slowly. Hope huffs. Freya swallows. “Not bad.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement, coming from you.”

Freya silently agrees. “Well, there will be others like you there. That should help a lot.”

“Cool.” Freya knows that from Hope, that’s as excited as she’ll possibly dare to sound.

Freya relays her conversation with Alec, and after Hope is dressed, she opens a portal.

“Text me midday, okay?” Freya smiles at her niece.

“Yes, mom!” Hope calls out as she walks through. Freya sighs. _Kids these days._

Freya has a seat on her couch, tucking her feet under her thighs. She summons another iced coffee from the shop around the corner. She leaves a few bills in their tip jar in exchange. She then summons her pink laptop and opens her email.

Warlock Bane – Magnus, she guesses they’re familiar enough – had really been quite helpful. Freya didn’t know how every High Warlock was, but this one had sent her a lengthy email with all the necessary preliminary contacts. Names and emails of the nearest clan leader and wolf pack were listed. Three apothecaries were named along with inventory lists. There was even a list of online message boards for mundane clientele. Freya wasn’t sure she or Vincent were ever this nice.

There’s another email from the warlock, sent a minute later and just as late in the night, or early in the morning. The subject reads: SAVE THE DATE. Freya decides she’ll click on that later.

It’s a busy day, but a happy one. Freya visits each of the apothecaries and places an order. She doesn’t talk much to the shopkeepers. She never was particularly social. Despite her age, she still didn’t really know how to talk to anyone outside of her family. Still, being surrounded by magical objects and potion ingredients calms her, like it always does.

By the time she gets back to her apartment and opens up her email again, waving her hand to organize the potion ingredients along her window sill, she’s received twenty new messages. Freya was never this popular in New Orleans. The most dire cases always came to her, of course, but everyone knew that Freya Mikaelson always put her family before all else.

There were some advantages to relative anonymity.

She opens up her calendar and starts logging in appointments. There are some standard requests – a lower level summoning, a sleeping potion – and then there are the more interesting emails. Freya is particularly curious about one potential client who doesn’t give any information at all. Still, money is money, and Freya books her, suspending her curiosity for another day.

As promised, Freya sets aside a couple hours the next morning for her new protégé. If all goes to plan, Freya will be lumping in the new student with Hope’s magic lessons, but Freya figures she should meet this person first and assess them. Who knows what level they’re at?

Freya gets takeout at an Indian restaurant a couple blocks away. She leaves an order of tandoori chicken with basmati rice and garlic naan in the refrigerator for Hope, just in case. She knows Shadowhunter hours run late. She’s exhausted from her errands, but she won’t be able to sleep until she talks to Hope.

She’s still hungry and craves salt. She heats up some popcorn in the microwave. She snuggles deeper into the couch. Just one more hour…


	3. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya meets her apprentice.

A soft knock sounds from Freya’s front door, alerting her of the punctual arrival of her new protégé. It’s been a relatively calm morning. After she fell asleep the night before, Freya was reawakened by the loud entry of Hope, fresh off her first hunt. Freya suspected it was a little early in Hope’s training for demon slaying, but she wasn’t going to intervene in Shadowhunter affairs.

She didn’t get much out of her niece, but Freya could tell Hope was exactly where she needed to be. Her smile was wider than Freya had seen in the past few years. She wondered whether Hope would bring up further magical instruction – so far she hadn’t – but Freya didn’t want to push her. It was difficult to specialize in two magics, let alone three. 

Freya flicks a hair off her dark jeans, gets up from her couch, and opens her front door.

“Hello…” She says as she steps away from the door, allowing for the girl to pass.

“Josie. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Josie, yes, welcome.” The girl sports the same necklace, but as opposed to the night in the club, where her skin was covered from head to toe, this time the girl wears short shorts, her runed legs on display.

Freya decides not to comment on it. She walks over to her dining table and sits, gesturing for Josie to do the same. “So, Warlock Bane told me you would like some additional training?”

Josie nods fervently. “My sister and I are both Shadowhunters, but we’re also siphoners. Essential we’re part warlock, but we don’t have magic within us, we need an anchor.”

Freya nods and waits for Josie to continue. Freya’s met siphoners before, although never combined with Nephilim heritage. She supposes it makes sense in a way.

“I think my sister is done with the magical training she’s received from Papa, but unlike her, I’d like to use my warlock abilities full time, which is why I’ve asked for an apprenticeship.”

Freya summons her computer and opens up a blank document to take notes. “Papa?” She asks.

Josie blinks. “Magnus is my father.”

Freya looks up. “Oh.” _It all makes more sense now_ , she thinks. _After all, why would a warlock in training want to leave a prestigious warlock like Magnus Bane?_

“Let’s cover the basics then. What have you learned thus far?”

Freya thinks this innocuous question has surprised the girl, but she doesn’t know her well enough to say for sure. Josie smiles. “Well, I’ve learned standard summoning and potion making. I can portal and summon a lower level demon. I know the basics of healing, although I’d like to learn more.”

Freya stops typing for a moment. She closes her computer and gives Josie her full attention. “What about accessing other sources of magic?”

Josie’s lips purse. “What do you mean?”

Freya extends her hand. “Here, hold my hand.”

Josie hesitates but then places her left hand into Freya’s open palm. 

“Close your eyes,” Freya intones.

Josie immediately follows the command. Freya closes her eyes too. She doesn’t need to, but it’s less creepy this way.

Freya feels her magic at her core and extends it into her hand. Her hand warms. Josie gasps.

“That was my magic. Can you siphon it?”

Tendrils of blue frames extend from Freya’s fingertips and into Josie’s skin.

“Good, good.” Freya soothes. She slowly removes her hand from Josie’s grasp. 

Freya chuckles. “You can open your eyes now.”

Josie’s eyes pop open. She blinks before focusing on Freya, her mouth ajar. “Wow.”

Freya flips back open her computer and resumes typing notes. “I think we should keep working on that. You should be able to siphon magic out of anything. Ideally, we’ll get you advanced enough so that you don’t have to rely on that necklace of yours.” She looks back up at Josie, who hasn’t moved.

“What’s your schedule like?”

Josie shakes her head slightly and looks back at Freya. “Um, I can be here whenever. What’s best for you?”

Freya looks away and considers. She doesn’t really need an assistant, but having the daughter of Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood as her apprentice couldn’t hurt her nonexistent reputation, especially when the misdeeds of the Mikaelson clan surface in New York City. 

Freya thinks back to when she was Josie’s age. _What did she want at the time?_ Freya was busy trying to free herself from her aunt. Then there was constantly saving Klaus… _Well, no time like the present_ , she thinks.

Freya looks back at the girl. “If you had to choose today, what would you want to do? Become a high warlock? Run your own business? Specialize in healing, offensive spells, potion-making? Work at the Spiral Labyrinth?”

Josie purses her lips. “I was thinking…maybe opening up a school? Or doing some kind of teaching?”

Freya nods. “Okay, then. We’ll work on a little bit of everything. Luckily, you’ve got time.” She smirks.

“So…what do you specialize in?”

Freya closes her laptop. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” she says evasively. “I guess…I tend to go for unusual cases or esoteric magic.”

She sighs and crosses her legs. “Okay, how about this? You come in for two hours in the morning three times a week for one-on-one instruction. In the afternoons you’ll work as my assistant. You’ll manage my calendar, run errands, restock my supplies, that sort of thing. You’ll eventually assist me on projects. I’ll pay you by the hour and will throw in free services in the future as your benefits. Sound good?”

Josie nods.

“Let’s get started, then.”


	4. First Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya has an important client.

“Your next appointment is here.” Josie says as she pops her head in from the living room.

Freya gives her a quick smile while she stirs her latest potion. “Tell them I’ll be right in, yeah?”

Josie was a quick study and an organized assistant. She didn’t have Hope’s intuitive abilities, per se, but she had the passion for magic, which Hope never really had. 

It was clear very quickly that Hope was very interested in her assistant and much less interested in continuing her magical education. Not that she really needed it. Hope seemed to thrive on her demon hunts. She liked throwing herself into danger, and she was lucky enough to have sufficient healing ability should something go awry. Hope would occasionally listen in on Josie’s lessons, but when it became clear that Hope was more of a hindrance than a help, Freya quickly kicked her out.

They’d progressed with Josie’s siphoning abilities. Josie could easily siphon magic from Freya now, and in turn Josie could share the magic from her necklace with Freya. Josie could now also siphon magic from the ground through touch, tapping into the ley lines. Freya hoped that Josie could eventually detach altogether and utilize the ley lines through her feet, even, but that could come in time. The beauty of a siphoning ability was that magic was limitless, and a siphoner could absorb and funnel an infinite supply of magic. It was just a slightly different approach, rather than a weakness.

Freya magicked her stirrer to move on its own and opened the door to her living room.

“Josie, can you come stir…”

Standing in Freya’s living room is the most beautiful woman Freya’s ever seen. The woman has soft-looking brown skin peaking out at her neck and hands. She wears stylish green overalls with a white t-shirt. Her hair is wild and curly. Sexy. 

Freya locks eyes with the newcomer. “I don’t think we’ve been formerly introduced. I’m Freya.”

The woman smiles brightly. “I know. Keelin.”

“Hi.” Freya stutters.

“I’ll…be in the back,” Josie interrupts their staring.

“Right,” Freya straightens. “Have a seat, please. What can I help you with?”

Keelin pulls a notebook out of her pocket and a pen. _Studious_ , Freya thinks. _Cute._

“I heard you were the one who came up with a vampire cure.”

Freya’s eyebrows shoot up. This is not what she was expecting. “It’s not a cure.”

Keelin waves her hand. “You know what I mean. It allows them to walk in the sun.”

Freya summons her laptop and opens a new document. “So, what do you need?” She’s already mentally sketching out the design for another ring. Perhaps in wood to match those luscious brown eyes…

“I was hoping you’d be up for finding a cure of the wolf variety.” 

“Oh.” Werewolves, in her past experience, didn’t mind the mood swings or the uncontrollable urges that came with cycles of the moon. That said, it had been a while since she talked to a purely werewolf.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Keelin looked at Freya with such hope. Freya wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve it, other than find a way for her brothers to avoid killing themselves when they were too bloodthirsty to realize the time of day.

“I’m not sure…” Freya thinks for a moment. She doesn’t know much about werewolf physiognomy. It would be a challenge, certainly.

It might require spending more time with the werewolf in front of her.

“Do you have a particular timeline in mind? Perhaps I can do some tests, get a sample of your blood, and give you and update in, say, about a week?”

Keelin smiles. “That would be great. And no, no timeline to speak of. It’s just something I’ve thought about for a long time. I’ve done a few tests myself, in fact.”

Keelin shuts her notebook again. Freya doesn’t think she’s actually taken notes, just adorably twirled her pen through a curl.

“So, how are you enjoying the city?”

Freya startles. She hasn’t actually had a conversation that wasn’t about work or about Hope’s demon-hunting.

“Um, it’s good, I guess. Fast.” So much faster than New Orleans. _Alive._

“Yea, trust me, I know. I was in Houston before this.”

“What made you decide to move?” Freya has decided to drop all pretense of professionalism.

Keelin tilts her head. “Nothing was really holding me there. And I wanted to see the world, although most days I don’t make it out of the ER.”

Freya smirks. “So that’s what you mean by testing.”

Keelin shrugs. “It feels right to help people.”

Freya sighs. “I understand.”

A loud door opening alerts Freya to a frazzled-looking Josie. “Hey, can you take a look at this?”

Freya suppresses a laugh. “Sure, Josie.” She stands. Keelin stands too and extends a hand. Freya shakes it. It’s as soft as she thought.

“I’ll be in touch.” Freya says as she reluctantly lets go.

Keelin winks before turning to leave.


End file.
